Late Bloomer
by Boast Malone
Summary: Izuku's idol had warned him to "be realistic" about his dreams, and he listened. Then one day, well into adulthood, he didn't need to be anymore.
1. Just Be Realistic

**Chapter 1: Just Be Realistic**

Izuku's life wasn't a comic book. It wasn't a movie. But it was enough.

He woke up, went to work, and worked from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, coming home to leftover katsudon in the fridge he'd made the night before. He watched some television, and went to sleep contempt to do it all again the next day.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. It was all he needed, really. There was...a little he could ask for, but he made do with what he had. It was fine.

His superiors could be a little mean, but the daily grind simply left them too wrung out to bother with common courtesy and friendliness. It hadn't happened to Izuku yet, but he supposed one day it would, should be rise up the ranks in the company. Even then, there was little to complain about. It was a little cold, but not entirely.

From his desk, Izuku checked his work email and sighed.

He owed an income statement by next monday. Why, he wasn't sure. If the company needed him to summarize financial performance for a certain period it wouldn't be too far off to assume it'd precede changes to his branch, like downsizing.

He just hoped it wouldn't be him. He couldn't think of why that'd be the case but it didn't stop him from worrying. The job search usually bore little fruit for a while and he'd hate to have to move back in with his mother. Plus he'd learned potential employers usually threw his resume in the trash when they saw he was quirkless. (The fact that it was common practice for one to write their quirk under their name on a resume was completely unfair in his opinion.)

It'd only be until he got back on his feet but...he'd hate to just be another burden at twenty-eight. He was almost _thirty_ for God's sake.

Hm.

The realization made him widen his eyes in surprise and take a deep breath. He was...almost thirty.

He watched the cubicle he sat in, along with the dull colors of the office-even his work clothes-feel foreign for a moment. The computer he used day in and day out for over four years became like something he'd never seen before, and the occasional ring of a telephone sounded like sirens blaring in his ear. It all felt wrong.

And as quickly as it came, it was gone. The reality of who he was and what his circumstances were seeped back in.

He was Izuku Midoriya. An accountant at a trading firm. He was damn near thirty years old.

Was this what he expected himself to be doing at his age?

He rolled out of his small office space to look at the drab decor designed solely for peak efficiency and took note of how empty it made him feel. So that was a no.

He used to be deep into heroics. Quirk theory too, probably to make up for not having one looking back. Now that he thought about it, he still remembered the analysis' he'd written "for the future". As though he had one in that field.

It was funny, in a sad way. How he'd deluded himself into believing he had a chance without a quirk to help anyone with. That was a lot of what his life was at that point-hoping to do his best, but without. Maybe he should've listened when everyone told him "no" instead of childishly rebelling in his own way.

He felt a feint pang in his chest and recognized the familiar feeling of his mood lowering.

He probably shouldn't have been thinking on that during work hours, it'd mess with his efficiency-he hadn't even started preparing the documents he was supposed to yet-but he couldn't help it. He never really gave this any thought. He'd just...tried to move forward in life without looking back on his regrets. It made things easier, even if it was only cruising through.

And he'd done that for twenty-eight years straight. Sheesh.

He still took refuge in the little things; interesting podcasts, funny videos, music he liked, visits to his mother's house-it wasn't all bad.

He hadn't had any friends yet, but it hadn't been on his mind for a while. He'd never had any before. Experience told him he was too shy, which was ironically because he didn't have people he could get comfortable with. He was used to everyone either ignoring him or casually disrespecting him. But it was sort of his fault in a way-nothing about him had ever demanded respect.

He'd always been a...a Deku.

He felt himself wince at the old nickname. He was well into adulthood, and no one called him that anymore, thank goodness, but he guessed it always stuck with him in his head. He hadn't seen its originator in person in maybe a decade either. It was one of the few good thing about growing up, even if Izuku regularly saw him the news.

Doing what he himself could never accomplish, he thought with a bitter smile, because despite the sour feeling he was still happy for him.

As far as he knew, Katsuki'd done exactly what he always said he'd do. He was a top ten hero and renowned for the way he utilized his quirk in combat, and roughly everyone in the country knew exactly who he was. If Izuku had to guess, he'd estimate Lemillion and Shouto were his only competition.

Maybe he _was_ still somewhat into heroics.

**...**

The train ride home was much better than his day at work. Izuku had somehow gotten an empty seat and didn't have to stand that day, that was neat. When he thought on it, he noticed the cart wasn't very full either. He had arm space from where he was sitting, and was even able to set his backpack on the seat next to him!

He reminded himself that it _was_ friday. Everyone else was probably on their way to Kamino Ward or Tokyo to fully enjoy a night on the town with others.

That must've been fun.

There were still some people, though. It was a decent mix that he thought reflected the side of Japan he was used to-salarymen and women in similar attire on their way home from work, students hailing from what he figured were prestigious universities judging by their uniforms, and even some from UA.

In his observation, he caught sight of two people not seated very far from him cuddled up to each other. They looked a little sleepy judging by how they failed to keep their eyes open for more than thirty seconds. It was sweet. They'd probably end up missing their stop, but it was sweet.

So Izuku felt awfully guilty when it brought up a well of negative emotions within. Their presumed happiness brought him sadness. That didn't feel right.

He just couldn't help it.

He assumed it had been a long time since he went on a date. And he was getting older. There was a pressure he put on himself a few years ago to at least be engaged by now. As usual, he just didn't meet the quota.

Izuku sighed, and looked back to his phone to avoid staring.

"-Ground Zero's gonna be there?"

His heart lept to his throat at the mere mention of Katsuki's hero name, and at the same time it came with slight anxiety.

"Yeah. He's actually gonna be speaking to us. I don't get why though. I think the last time he went up to speak at anything was like...five years ago,"

At the Sports Festival, Izuku remembered. He rarely gave as many interviews as did in the early days of his debut. Izuku looked around the train and found the UA students chatting in the seats in front of him, but looked back on his phone to curb potential suspicion.

"So what's it for?"

"Some general equivalency thing,"

"For heroics? I thought that wasn't passed yet,"

Izuku's ears perked up. General equivalency program? For heroics? The thought momentarily brought him confusion. As far as he was aware, the only avenue to licensed heroism was through a heroics-specific school program.

No, he'd remembered. Izuku had read about a woman advocating for such a program in legislation, but that'd been years ago.

Izuku took note that such an option opened the door for potential heroes, and felt just an ounce of hope rise up.

Then he crushed it down to where it belonged. It was childish that after all this time he still jumped at the opportunity in his head. But he...still wanted to be a hero. Part of him did, anyway. He'd let the ambition go already, but he guessed part of him was stubborn.

Izuku sighed. There was no benefit to clinging onto childhood fantasies in his age. Especially not for people like him-people with his condition.

**...**

It was partly why Izuku's apartment was devoid of any All Might apparel. After a while he got used to it. Whether or not the former symbol of peace was grinning at his return from every angle in his home, it'd always be just as empty as when he left for work.

Izuku walked directly to his kitchen having taken his shoes off. He considered getting a pet once, but didn't think his schedule would allow the time to feed it properly. It was a shame.

As he warmed up the leftover Katsudon in his microwave, he thought to what had happened on the ride home, and decided it alluded to a bigger issue.

He might've been unhappy.

Was it possible? He'd never been one to really live the most lavishly, or regularly have a friendly outing secured, but that didn't make him miserable or anything.

He thought to the positives. He didn't go hungry, he had a decent salary, and the weekend was his to relax. He didn't even have anyone breathing down his neck to remind him he couldn't do anything he wanted. By normal standards, he was doing just fine and it made perfect sense for his disposition to reflect that.

But on days like these it didn't feel like it did. More often than not he felt like he could be doing more. The realization that he was awfully close to thirty only exacerbated this.

As he ate on his couch, dish in hand, he took note of the subtle thought that he was pressed for time he had when he was at the office. The pressure.

The news happened to be on and he knew without a doubt his accomplishments paled in comparison to the clips of demigods presented onscreen-the heroes that saved an elderly man from dying at the unpredictable hands of irresponsible driving, the duo that helped people out of a burning building. It made him look like...nothing. Who had he saved? When had Izuku ever given anyone a reason to call him a hero.

He took one last bite before setting his container on the coffee table. The sour feeling that came with his answer went and stole his appetite.

_'It isn't fair,'_ Izuku thought.

The walls he'd built around his heart to ease the sting of his reality began to crumble, and he felt himself tearing up before he got the chance to hold his head in his hands.

Izuku Midoriya's life wasn't a comic book, and it wasn't a movie. And days like these only made it worse. They made him feel like a delusional deku on some rooftop.

But, that was simply life. It's what was real. And ultimately he'd spent his life being realistic.

He sighed. perhaps it wasn't that he was unhappy, he was just someone who had to let go of everything that made his previous life bearable. He was better for it, even if he didn't feel like it always. It was realistic.

With that Izuku took a deep breath, and felt secure again.

And felt it leave in a vicious swoop when Katsuki's face came on the news.

There was a foreign feeling that overtook him, as though springing into action after reaching peak dormancy. He needed something to break. The remote was still in his hands, and that's how his remote went through his TV and broke a crater in the wall behind it.

Izuku paused, and let his mind blank. The TV had an oddly shaped hole directly in the center it, with what was left of the screen taking on a mixed assortment of blues, greens, and yellows. Then as though it sunk in, he yelped and lept up to his feet.

"Oh my-" The thing was totaled. He was positive the remote was shattered even though he couldn't see the bits over the stand he set the TV on. But that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the impact cavity in the wall that he caused.

"How did I..."

He examined it from afar as though he could've been hallucinating. But in all fairness, he could've been. It was the only thing that made sense.

And then his mind defied logic for a moment, defied what was hopelessly real for a brand new possibility, and Izuku felt a dangerous shot of hope make itself known for the second time that day. His heart found a rising tempo at the anticipation-at the suspense.

He didn't acknowledge it out loud, almost as though it wouldn't come true if he did so, but he didn't fight the smile that crept up his face. Not for a moment.

Then it came crashing down. Why? His _mother_ had gifted him the TV he just destroyed.

**Author's Note: I don't usually like fics where Izuku's given a quirk, but I couldn't help myself here. Most fic writers gave him one at a very...convenient time for him (usually right before the UA acceptance test) and I wanted to give him one at a rather inconvenient one. He's not old, but his youth is pretty much behind him. And because of the exact quirk that manifests, it has consequences. Rest assured that even though they're rather negative in their own way, this isn't a story of his descent into villainy (Though someday I'll try my hand at that).**

**Also, the only reason I didn't write in the remote as flying through the wall was because it didn't have enough weight to do so, and it doesn't seem dense enough. Frankly I'm not too sure a normal TV remote would even be able to go through a TV screen but, hey. I'm no physicist.**

**Last thing: I looked up accounting terminology for this.**

**(Props to whoever understands where the chapter title came from!)**


	2. Security

**Update, 11-27-19: The entire last half of the chapter was in italics. Uploading content on this hellsite is such a pain in the ass. My bad.**

"Mom?"

"Yes, Izuku?"

Izuku paused, and momentarily regretted his decision. He knew it had to be done, though, "I...I kinda broke your TV,"

A beat, "Huh?"

"Your TV, the one you gave me, I—I broke it,"

"...Oh. Well, Izuku I'm sorry to hear that. It's fine though, you can get another one right?"

Izuku didn't understand why she wasn't upset about it, but didn't question it, "I think in a week, sure,"

"How did you break it?"

"Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Despite having known what he was gonna tell his mother beforehand, he still examined his words carefully, "I...threw the remote at it,"

"Oh, are you okay? Were you upset? Should I come over?"

"No, no, no it's—it's fine mom. But...the remote went straight _through_ the TV,"

"Uh huh?"

"And it left like, a crater in the wall behind it. I think the only reason it it didn't go through _that_ was because the wall is concrete. That's not...normal, right?"

There was an audible silence emanating from the other line that made Izuku anxious. Mostly because he couldn't see her reaction.

"What are you asking me, Izuku?"

"Do you think I might," He swallowed, "Have a quirk?"

The silence returned, this time larger than before. Moments stretched into seconds, and when his mother sighed, he knew she'd made up her mind.

"I'm coming over,"

Izuku couldn't fight the chuckle, "Okay, Mom,"

**Chapter 2: Security**

She was over in maybe ten minutes. He didn't live very far.

His mother essentially commandeered control of the household as soon as he let her in, admonishing him for his eating habits and making her way to the kitchen without even taking off her coat. Izuku was sat down on his couch awaiting steamed rice along with miso soup. It was presumably so they had something to eat while they acknowledged the broken TV taking place of the elephant in the room.

It was great. His appetite even came back, and greatly accepted the food Inko prepared for them. He didn't even ask, and she remembered to make some for _herself_ as well this time!

But his high sort of fizzled out when they sat down and actually ate. They were on his couch, and clearly waiting for either one to start talking about the TV. Or maybe his Mom was thinking of what to say. Like he probably should've.

"So," She began, _thank God_, "This TV thing. You did that, right?"

Izuku suddenly found his rice much more interesting, "Yep. All me,"

"And it went _through_ the screen, and left _that_," She motioned towards the crater in the wall before them.

It did sound odd, Izuku acknowledged, "Yeah. Crazy right?"

"I mean...yes. Yes, Izuku, this is pretty insane,"

"You think I have a quirk?" He asked suddenly

"I..." His Mom looked like she tried thinking of something big to say and gave up with a shrug that betrayed her confusion. At the situation, probably, "Maybe? Theres clearly a good chance,"

_'Is she worried?'_ Izuku thought. She always was, but he hoped this didn't worry her. He hoped this made her as happy as it made him.

"You don't like it?" He asked.

"I didn't say that,"

"You look worried,"

"I—I know, Izuku, I'm sorry. I just...are you gonna try and be a hero again?"

Izuku bristled, and suddenly he was the same fourteen year old kid who purposely slept in to avoid taking UA's acceptance test.

The one who'd given up.

And maybe in a way, he had. Even past that age. He'd let go of everything that let his mind wander to unattainable heights for a life that kept him grounded. But they were ultimately weights that at the very least made the years go by faster. Not that there was much to fill up the space anyway.

But...now he had a quirk.

"I don't know, I hadn't really given it much thought," He admitted, tucking his phone deeper in his pocket as though his internet history could've flown out at that moment and she'd see him googling everything be could find on General Equivalency for Heroics, "But maybe? If I did I'd have more of a chance now than I did then,"

His mother didn't say anything, but she still let her expression reveal her concern. She must've been thinking of what to say.

"Okay," she said.

Izuku didn't understand, "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," She nodded, likely more to herself than Izuku, "Okay. You might have a quirk. And if you can, you'll probably become a hero. Okay,"

Izuku hadn't realized how much he'd needed her to give him the go. It was definitely different from when he was a boy. She'd never outright reprimand him for dreaming, not like his peers but...he'd never had her support. She even let him sleep in on UA. He understood it was because he was quirkless—almost every time he was denied something it was because he was quirkless. It just still hurt.

Even now, it didn't feel like he had it now. The pessimist within told Izuku it was only because he had a quirk, and because he was already a grown man.

"Does it really bother you?" He asked, already having set down his rice on the table in front of the couch.

His Mom sighed, "Yes. I suppose it always has," she admitted, "But you're my little boy," He saw the tears welling up and suddenly felt a knot in his throat, he was sure his eyes were glossy at the least.

_You're my little boy_, he let echo in his mind. And knew she'd always worry because of it. She could never deny him but couldn't bear to watch him potentially falter, much less put himself into the same danger even heroes struggled against.

Izuku never wanted his mother to stress over him, but he also wanted to spread his wings. Just a few hours ago he found out he had them in the first place. He supposed now she'd have to worry about him flying too close to the sun, whatever it may take form as in this chapter of his life.

"I'm sorry...for making you worry," he said. He let the 'later on' go unspoken.

"Don't be. You might have a quirk and it still makes me anxious. I'll aways worry for you. Already said you're my little boy," His Mother said, letting a sad smile slip in.

Despite it all, he still remembers clearly having her as his rock. The one he could always lean on when he felt like his world was falling apart during his younger days. Even now. It was a comforting constant he could always count on. It's why he always tried to avoid spotting her grays when he saw her.

"So are you gonna see a quirk specialist?" She asked suddenly.

"Yeah. I just haven't made the appointment yet. I don't wanna see the same guy, though," If he was still alive, anyway.

"I understand. You want me to make the appointment for you?"

That made him chuckle, "Nah, Mom it's fine,"

"If you're sure,"

From then on they let the air forgo the tension. Him and his Mom caught up on everything despite last Saturday being the last they saw of each other, and two days ago being the last time he called. Still, it was nice. He always loved having his Mother over.

**...**

Izuku shifted in bed, and turned away from the light sneaking in through the blinds. He'd woken up already, to the electronic screech of his alarm clock.

His old one anyway. In his morning haze he'd forgotten about his new development, and now had the remnants of the shattered device on his nightstand to show for it.

He didn't feel bad though. He could always get another one, just like his TV. Plus it was his day off—he'd expected to sleep in today, not cling to what was left of it at 7 am.

Izuku took a calming breath. He knew he'd have to get up eventually. Sleep was slipping from his grasp like sand. And he was getting hungry.

He rose in bed, and pulled the rest of the comforter off him. Through the fog of his mind he tried thinking of something he needed to do that day, but found his mental agenda to be empty.

Well, he guessed he needed to wash the dishes, but that didn't _really_ count as an errand, did it?

His appointment with Dr. Hayashi wasn't for another two days. He supposed all he really needed to do was eat breakfast and see what happened.

Seated on the couch with a bowl of cereal in hand, the sight of the television screen still on the floor (shrapnel swept up the night before of course) forced Izuku to remember that he couldn't watch the news.

He could've easily turned to his phone but...he needed background noise. That, and it was still in his room. He frowned having not recalled plugging it up to charge before he turn in for the night. He turned to the window to the far side of him and found the bright blue sky and the clump of buildings lined up at the bottom to be...oddly inviting. It made him smile even if he wasn't used to that.

So after finishing up and charging his phone for a generous twenty minutes, Izuku was off. Where, he wasn't sure. The air just felt much more refreshing, even if the winter chill nipped at the back of his neck—he probably should've worn a scarf. He was sure his scarlet jacket was enough, though.

Izuku didn't feel the need to try and hide from others or avoid their gaze like it'd burn him. In fact, he didn't feel anything inherently predatory with the people that passed him. There wasn't that vague risk he was too used to. It was unusual, but very welcome.

For once, he felt like he was on equal standing with everyone. It was nice. He was comfortable.

And everyone's quirks rung out like bells to him, piquing his interest with each one he noticed. Everyone was essentially a potential entry in one of his old journals. He didn't have a notebook on him at the moment, but he'd definitely have to make a stop to the store for one soon.

Eventually, he started comparing quirks, and it led him to directly examine his. Or try to, anyway. Everything about it was set to be made known to him in two days, so right then he'd known next to nothing about it besides it made him super strong. So...super strength?

_'__Perhaps', _Izuku thought. It made sense, but there was always the chance he had an enhancer quirk that extended to all of his senses.

_'Or would that mean it'd have to be active at all times for it to undoubtedly be an enhancer? Or it could only be active for certain instances?'_ Some quirks had a specific criteria for them to be put to use as well.

Izuku felt his heart skip a beat—he considered the possibility that he never met the qualifications to activate his quirk again and was effectively without one once more. It terrified him.

For a moment, he held the feeling of being under intense scrutiny regardless of whether or not he'd caught anyone's attention.

For a moment, it was like he had several bright lights blaring from his person and everyone simply tried not to notice.

For a moment, Izuku was twelve years old awaiting a physical beating for daring to exist.

Izuku took a deep breath and remembered he unintentionally destroyed his alarm clock that morning. So it wasn't anything too specific. Good.

The bottom line was he couldn't be in the dark about his quirk anymore—he couldn't afford to wait.

**...**

Even from behind the piles among piles of abandoned appliances, furniture, and even some cars, the wail of the ocean waves were audible. It made Izuku wish he could smell that seawater scent people often talked about over the ever present smell of garbage.

That's what this place unofficially was—a dump. He was sure it was either dumped illegally, or all the trash simply washed up the shore. Maybe a mix of both.

He wasn't there to take in the sights, though, as much as he appreciated them.

He looked for a decent spot to start, and would've taken off his shoes had it not been for the weather. Then he spotted an old sedan with busted up windows and taillights just sitting there. It was perfect.

Izuku took a seat on the hood and leaned back, thinking where and how he should start. Quickly, he catalogued everything he knew about his quirk.

It appeared to be strength enhancing.

.

.

.

That was it.

Izuku groaned at himself for doing the same thing he did earlier while expecting a different result, and got off the car. He looked around again for something to test his newfound strength on, settling on an old looking radiator.

For preparation, he tried to think of what he was doing before he wrecked his TV.

It'd been a less than stellar work day, he was watching the news, and then bam, TV gone. Izuku frowned, _knowing_ that wasn't right.

He saw Katsuki's face on the screen and he'd just...snapped. Is that what it took? Anger? He hadn't remembered what he was feeling when he destroyed his alarm clock besides sleepiness, but maybe he was irritated?

Izuku met the radiator before he could decide.

This was it, he supposed. Well, it wasn't, but it felt like it. The moment of truth.

The (possibly) unusable heating device was a little below his height so he had to crouch a little to ready his fist, but he tried to put his all into the impact.

It went flying past the towers of mechanical waste and into the water with a faraway _plop!_

Izuku hadn't realized he'd held his breath until he unconsciously let it out. Suddenly his youth felt further behind him than it'd ever had before, but in a good way. Every embarrassment and regret he had in his life up to that point paled in direct comparison to what had just happened.

Izuku felt a tear roll down his cheek, and then another, and another after that, but for once there wasn't any sorrow attached.

Any normal person would've done something quick and celebratory right then and there, but not Izuku. Good moments like these were a rarity, so he didn't cry out, and he didn't do a little jig. Instead, he inhaled the air and tried to commit what he saw to memory. He took in the setting sun along with the pinks, and purple clouds above, even the garbage surrounding him at all sides despite finding a clearing in the sand.

He wiped his eyes with his forearm knowing he wasn't finished just yet, "Okay. Okay,"

He looked around again, another test fresh on the immediate agenda, and rested his eyes when he found a washing machine at the level of a giant trash pile, like a bush flush against the trunk of an oak.

"Mom said she needed a new one," Izuku mused.

Once he made his way over, he placed his palms on the sides of the machine, preparing to lift. He wasn't the most active person out if his lanky build was anything to go by, so he knew what he was doing was probably in poor form. Still, he was pleasantly surprised when it came up with him seemingly as light as a fork.

He dropped it in surprise though, when he heard it moan in protest before slightly imploding on itself in his hold—he'd been _crushing_ it, no pun intended.

So, he had super strength. That was essentially confirmed at that point. Looking at a patch clear of trash he wondered if he could also shift that strength to his legs and jump to extreme heights. He supposed he couldn't try it right then and there though, since there wasn't anything to land on and he wasn't sure if invulnerability came with his qui—

There was a distinct groan of machinery he heard coming from...the top of the trash tower. He looked up and estimated it had to be maybe twenty feet high! And he didn't even need to squint to see the numbers on its license plate. Could that've been part of his quirk?

Another groan, this time much louder than the previous one, and the car was rolling down the trash at a concerning speed, directly where Izuku was standing.

Oh, wow.

Even though his heart was hammering, he felt bold. His mind would probably berate him for it later, his mother wrap him in bubble wrap, even at his age. Still, Izuku stood his ground, saw the vehicle flip over his way and held his palms out.

When saw his reflection in the busted windows and realized what he was doing, he didn't feel so bold anymore.

He scrambled to try and get out of it's path but it was too late—the car practically rammed into him from its side and he felt like he'd never been pushed so hard in his life. He fell in the sand, and there was part of a _car_ on him but...

It didn't hurt. He didn't feel anything besides maybe a little dizzy.

Izuku's heart sank, "Don't some people in freak accidents say it doesn't hurt right away? Oh God what if I've lost blood?!"

He planted his palms on the ground for support and forced himself up over the weight of the vehicle in one swift motion. He was so caught up in his paranoia he hadn't even realized what he'd done.

Midway into forcing his jacket off and checking his body (well, torso) for gashes or blood leakage, he saw the car on lying on its side.

"Woah," Izuku said, seeing that _he flipped a car over without even thinking about it._

Hesitantly, he smiled. Then giggled a little. He could barely believe it.

The thought of him in a certain blue, red, and yellow costume crossed his mind and he let it go further, but didn't let it pass. He was destroying giant robots in a matter of moments, rescuing hundreds from burning wreckage, and shaking hands with the most respected of individuals with a pristine white smile on his face.

He didn't even bother to scold himself for not being realistic because he actually was!

He was so happy, he just _needed_ to share it. It'd would've been criminal not to.

He called his Mom.

...

She was ecstatic for him. She might've been crying and maybe he had done so too but Izuku wasn't the least bit sorry for being a little emotional. He absolutely deserved to be.

He was walking the same path he'd done on his way to the beach, but by then night had fallen. The sky was an inky blue, and he was sure he spotted some stars out that night. 'Must be my luck', he thought with a smile.

"Lift with your legs, asshole!"

"I am, prick get to moving!"

Izuku peered his gaze to where he heard the bickering.

He saw two people struggling to move an entire bookshelf by themselves on the other side of the street, and Izuku found himself crossing over with his hands out before he could think too much about it.

"Hey! You guys need help?"

One of the two, the young guy with unkept hair, two distinct red horns on his cheeks and an irritated gaze set his bloodshot eyes on him. He didn't look like he wore enough to properly brave the cold weather.

"No. Get lo—"

"Yeah! Yeah, sir we really could totally use a hand here!" His shorter friend interrupted, looking closer to collapse any second. Like his friend, (or maybe his brother?) he also had two horns, but they were on his forehead. His eyes were unlike his buddy's though.

Quickly, Izuku moved to the middle of the bookshelf and bent down to grab the bottom, bracing himself for the weight, momentarily letting his quirk lose its place on his mind. As he rose, he was even able to adjust his grip so that it all rested on his shoulder. It was practically weightless much to the shock of the pair previously struggling so obviously.

"Man, that's one strong quirk. Really saved us there," The short one (slightly shorter than _him_, anyway) complimented.

"Yeah..." The other one hesitantly added.

Izuku felt himself giddy up over being complimented on his quirk as pride welled up, "Really? Thanks. That's an interesting one you two have, though!" Izuku's eyes took on an analytical glint, and for the first time in a while he felt inclined to learn as much as he could about the set of quirks in front of him.

They'd always interested him, but he grew out of the habit...somehow. He was sure it was sometime during his first year working at Oburi and Gurahamu. But now he had a good reason to be curious.

He'd figure it out later but it was for sure a good one!

He started soft, though. He didn't wanna take up too much of their time, "Are your horns inanimate completely? And you, are your eyes a part of it? I noticed your's aren't like his but are you just under some sort of influence? Would you be comfortable with me writing this down for laterwhatsyournameareyoujapanesenatives?"

The lanky one was a little taken aback by Izuku's interest, as was his friend. Still, he tried to answer his questions. Well, one of them anyway. Maybe he thought he owed him, Izuku wasn't sure.

"My eyes turn red when I...push myself," he admitted. _Probably why he looked like a stoner right then_, "The horns just come with the package. My brother doesn't have an extra one,"

Izuku committed it to memory and really, really wished he still had his notebooks. If his eyes turned red when he pushed himself physically, it probably went hand in hand with his body temperature. Technically speaking, this guy was a human thermometer. Cool stuff.

"Yeah, I guess I am a thermometer," He agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh! Sorry..." Izuku swore he'd already clipped his muttering habit.

"It's fine. I'm Akame, and this is my brother Futsume, by the way. You wanna bring that in soon?" The outside part of his eyes were losing their red hue.

"Yeah, it's cold as hell out here," His brother agreed.

Izuku realized he'd been holding their bookshelf this entire time, "Sorry! Heh...where do you guys live?"

"Just that building over there," Futsume pointed to an apartment complex two buildings down. They must not've been able to find closer parking.

**...**

It was easy for Izuku to lie in bed actually excited for the day following. Normally he was kept up because he'd grow worried about the oncoming day and stress about his responsibilities, but this time it was much more carefree.

It was the difference between laying with his anxiety and just...being excited about what's to come. Not only did he feel ready, he was willing to accept whatever came next for him. He couldn't help but already feel it was better things.

He rolled over, still awake, still smiling. He'd have to head to sleep soon, he knew. So he laid on his back and slowly let sleep overtake him.

**...**

Izuku didn't remember much from his early childhood. The day him and his Mother found out he was quirkless was an exception.

He remembered it as though it happened just a week before. He remembered the naive security he felt when he walked into the office that made him anxious looking back because it was ripped away for years to come. He didn't think he ever truly got over it. He doubted he ever would.

When he walked into the specialist's office with his mother accompanying him, because of course he made sure she was there, he walked in feeling the same dread he felt through reminiscence even though he _knew_ he had nothing to worry about.

_"You should probably give it up,"_

For him to be told he was just as hopeless now as he was when he was a kid was his worst fear at that moment.

So when Izuku utterly destroyed the machine designed to test his grip, he found the look on the blonde specialist one to better remember. His grin was triumphant, and he had the oncoming news of his updated condition to show for it. The security was priceless.

"It's remarkable, sir. You have two joints in your toe, and that's usually a sign of quirklessness but," The middle aged specialist began, pushing a blonde bang to the back of her ear, "you've clearly demonstrated your quirk,"

Izuku and his Mom grinned.

"I think all you need to do now is have your records updated. You definitely aren't quirkless," She said, making Izuku feel like he had a second chance, like a weight was off him.

Yep. Priceless.

**Author's note: If it isn't obvious already, I'm purposely making him overpowered. Let me say this as humorously as possible: The story isn't about how much ass he kicks, it's about how being able to kick that much ass changes him as a person.**

**And don't expect those OC's to come back anytime soon. Idk. Maybe don't.**

**Props to whoever finds the real life easter egg hidden in here.**


	3. Welcome Aboard

**Author's Note: Todai is short for the University of Tokyo. And the JCAIP is essentially the Japanese accountant's equivalent to the Hero Commission.**

**Oh, and sorry for the wait.**

**Chapter 3: Welcome Aboard**

Izuku remembered furiously looking into any general equivalency program for heroics after he'd overheard those guys discussing it, back when he learned he might've had a quirk. It was how he'd known waking up that there was a seminar for it at the University of Tokyo of all places.

Inside, Izuku entered a large lecture room with gray carpets, a somewhat low ceiling for the dim lights, and several rows of blue seats lined up in a curve before a platform that sort of looked like a stage. The expensive decor that mended the line between modern and traditional in direct comparison to the dull and drab of the JICPA building made him feel so out of place in this university.

People came here encouraged to decide for themselves what they were gonna be, and where he went it was like preparation to sell his soul to the rather empty view of numbers and finances. There was a noticeable difference in the people there, too. Some were just as dead-faced as they were in the JCAIP, but more were lively and excitedly chatted with friends.

Even in the lecture room, he overheard people talking about movies, video games, mountains of homework they'd yet to accomplish, even finances the way he used to. But that was what separated both institutions—there was a _choice_. And it made Izuku feel something akin to nostalgia despite having never experienced it. Or was that him longing _because_ he'd never experienced it?

He frowned, but remembered where he was, and what he was doing. He _was_ making his own choice here. He _was_ taking control of his own destiny. He _was_ an equal to everyone else inside.

The absence of a collared shirt and slacks on a weekday reminded him he missed work to come. He had enough sick days saved up, but he rarely took time off. It was the first time that day he'd even thought of his job, and he promptly shooed it away.

Finally, the lights dimmed, and a few at the front of the room remained as they were. There was a very short, petite woman with long pink locks organized in a ponytail up there at a desk previously chatting with someone in a suit. He saw her check some documents before tapping a small microphone.

She introduced herself as Manami Aiba, and Izuku felt the recollection of a similar looking woman doing stuff like...well, mostly robbing banks. Robbing banks very theatrically, with someone even more dramatic. It was very cartoonish in nature, looking back.

But as he closely examined her noticeably large pink irises from the back row, it almost clicked.

Was she really La Brava, villain sidekick to The Gentle Villain...?

Slowly, it came together. The thought of a woman of similar stature, but obviously different goals with her pink hair in high pigtails, a bang aimed down the middle of her forehead, and an elaborate outfit reminiscent of something masculine from fifteenth-century Europe confirmed the connection. It had to be her.

And she wasn't in jail, oddly enough. Did no one recognize her?

A cautionary look around his fellow audience suggested so. Maybe she was reformed? She had to be, if this was the woman who'd been approaching their legislators with this.

Naturally, Izuku was a little on edge, even if her discussion points on why the program was a necessity interested him.

"...Believe it or not, there are actual people out there, some in the audience I take it, with a genuine desire to actually use their quirk for good—people with good hearts and capable abilities that maybe didn't realize them until after they finished high school, or simply had a quirk that wasn't able to impress the likes of, let's say Endeavor. No matter the case, why should such a profession be off limits because you weren't so sure about your path in life at _fourteen_? It shouldn't be, and you shouldn't be expected to know it at such an age," She said, inspiring several nods in the crowd.

It made him think of something in Hero's Weekly he'd read when he still had his subscription. He wondered if this was her segway into vigilantism, since what she described was precisely what incited most of it. According to the article, anyway.

"The nods I'm getting are telling on their own. Some people in the audience actually attend this university, some came from Kyoto, some don't go to school at all. And that's fine. You're all here, taking control of your destinies,"

...Well, he liked that. Despite knowing her words were tailored for people like him, it unonsciously elevated his spirits. For some reason, it didn't feel so cheap. It made him smile too, just a little.

"Maybe you saw the ad for this online, or on TV, it doesn't matter. What matters is you saw a second chance for yourself in this program. I'm happy to let you know that showing up was your first step,"

She was echoing all he'd been thinking without even realizing.

With that, Izuku wasn't paying attention to the other attendees—he was sold. This really was his second chance, to do right by himself for once. Everything Aiba said following felt like gospel, like if he didn't hang onto every word he'd lose out on this forever, despite everyone being given a pamphlet before they entered.

He'd learned that the General Equivalency Program for Heroics was essentially preparation for a group of tests meant to replicate the official Hero License Exams that youngsters usually took. Aiba was the one who drafted the bill and had it passed through legislature, though it took several years. She'd also be the one overseeing the program.

She spoke of having a friend that actually attended UA until he was expelled, and unofficially barred from any heroics program since the expulsion was on his record. Better late than never she said, but the program would've circumvented that if it was around in his time.

He couldn't help but nod in agreement, and be glad this came about when it did. Just the right time, it seemed.

Eventually, the seminar came to an end, with Aiba requesting the audience to fill out a form up on the table up front if they were interested. There was a link on the digital screen behind her if they needed more info. It was great.

He felt accomplished signing his name in three different places. The real satisfaction came from writing his quirk at the very bottom of the form—_Super Human_.

He peered to where Aiba was chatting with an enthusiastic attendee and wished he'd signed his form a little earlier. It was no bother. He'd probably get a chance to speak with her eventually. Two weeks, to be specific.

As he ventured out the door, the university students' words from a week ago rung in Izuku's ears, and softly stopped him from gaping at the decor a second time. It was like a bell on a counter that beckoned some kind of staff.

_"—Ground Zero's gonna be there?"_

_"—He's actually gonna be speaking to us,"_

He sighed in relief, and didn't give it much thought. Whether Katsuki cancelled because he saw something like this as a handout was none of his concern.

**...**

Izuku went to sleep that night knowing he couldn't responsibility call out of work a second time. So when he woke, everything he did was robotic.

Upon reentering the fields of consciousness, he took a leak, brushed his teeth, but didn't change out of his plain shirt and boxer shorts just yet. He ate plain cereal scrolling through his plain phone because he still hadn't gotten a new television. If he had much thought to him he would've noticed himself getting used to the silence.

But he didn't, so he scrolled soullessly through a redundant national newsfeed and only opened one of them. He went as far as the headline before he _did_ notice the time and tucked it away.

A change of clothes later, Izuku was garbed in a plain black suit and tie, missing only his backpack. He looked around his apartment and felt the overall composition lacking. Like it was missing something. _Everything_ felt like it was missing something that morning, despite the amazing day he had preceding. Maybe he needed to call his Mom, they hadn't spoken yesterday.

The train was full that morning. He was forced to stand, hang onto the railing, and hope there wasn't a bump that made him fall into someone else. Last time he did that was exactly four years ago and he _still_ remembered sometimes.

He was used to it but, he gussed part of him was spoiled from being able to take it easy on the way back and forth, even if it was for a day or two. He hoped work would be a little easier on him.

It wasn't.

Well, it was the same way it always was, but this time it felt different—felt _worse_. Sitting at his computer, preparing these documents, looking over the books at his desk felt so...banal.

The barriers of his cubicle felt like they were closing in, and soon they would be all he'd ever know.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But he was definitely ready to leave within his first two hours—_minutes_ clocked in.

Izuku typed in several numbers in the chart he was working on, and back to the notepad in front of him to make sure the data was correct. It felt like having to transcribe the name of every ward in Japan onto the bricks of a large pyramid.

_'Wasn't Hisashi a salaryman?'_ like himself?

Izuku had never known much about him, but he did know that for sure. Even though his father had to have left them for work. But while money was always being wired to him and his Mom growing up, it always felt like they had been bailed out on.

If they were, perhaps he understood why. It didn't sit right with him, and he'd never do the same under any circumstances, but he couldn't say he didn't understand why he would've wanted to abandon his life in Japan for something else.

Hell, every once in a while, Izuku wished _he_ could skip town and live a new life like he'd grown to assume his father had. But the difference between them was that...Hisashi had more than Izuku. He had a loving wife, and an okay son. Quirkless, but okay. Izuku had nothing in comparison.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed the program on the computer. It would've been nice if there was a window he could've looked out of.

_"Your training's gonna include combat and rescue trials moderated by special instructors, as well as..."_

Theorem of heroics. They'd be learning to use their quirks offensively and defensively while also learning of the philosophies and history of Regulated Heroics as a whole. Part of him theorized they'd be working with Pro Heroes or retirees. It didn't matter. Izuku was excited nonetheless.

it was why a smile came on, but it fell. He acknowledged he wasn't focused on his work, and sighed.

He still wondered how the combat trials would go, if only to quickly discern whether or not his quirk would pose a risk to his soon-to-be fellow classmates ahead of time. It made him chuckle—he had to worry about _accidentally_ hurting someone instead of coordinating against potential risks to himself now.

_'If we'll be working with pros, will I be assigned to fight them?'_ he wondered. He hoped so. Maybe after he'd even be able to talk with some, should their schedules allow it of course. He wasn't so big-headed yet to assume they'd offer first only because of what he was capable of. Still, it'd be nice.

The thought made the next few hours a little easier. How there was a chance he'd gain the respect of people he'd looked up to since elementary whether it be off the first meet, or when they see him demonstrate his quirk. Even if it didn't happen it wouldn't matter, because at least now he had the _chance_. Needless to say, he'd never had that before.

People usually overlooked him or didn't like him. They didn't hurt him the way they could in his much younger days, but at least right then they definitely couldn't. He'd find out come two weeks, but he doubted it was possible.

And with that, his work equipment, his desk, his cubicle all felt incredibly fragile, like if he wasn't careful he could've accidentally broken it apart any second.

Which he could've.

It made his desk feel smaller, but in a good way. He didn't take notice of the people he worked with often for his own sake, but that day he stood up, and let the top of his head peek over the cubicle as he took a look around. He saw the heads (and some horns, even a pair of rabbit ears) of his coworkers and felt...different from them. He didn't belong, but not because he was privileged to be there.

Izuku sat back down and resumed his work.

Usually he was on top of his tasks, but ever since his headspace was so shaken up at home, he'd become unfocused with roughly everything at work. There was a subtle weight that held him down little by little with the knowledge that he could've been doing something better with his time, with his life. It made his responsibilities seem more like general guidelines. There was a liberating undertone that made it seem uplifting, but Izuku let himself consider it a weight. It'd make the day go by faster.

Really, it was the understanding of the concept of rent and other necessary expenses that kept him from acting on his desires right then. But that didn't mean part of him didn't agree quietly, as though doing so would make it pass.

On the bright side, he commonly wondered to himself what he was doing there and what was to come, but this time he had an answer—he was just waiting for the program to begin, content that it'd coincide the start to what he considered a new path. Was it odd that he already could envision himself completing it successfully and working alongside the pros? Maybe, but he wasn't used to registering victory as an actual possibly, so he allowed himself the peculiar belief.

For once, he _believed_ in himself.

It brought a small smile that blinkered when he remembered he still had work to do. Its absence was marked by the familiar set of frail footsteps he heard coming closer.

It was a long two weeks.

**...**

**Day 4 (Nine days to orientation)**

Izuku started counting the day before, for his own security if nothing else. It eased his mind to know the clock was ticking, even if sometimes it felt as though it picked up the pace and dropped dead on its own accord. But, he wasn't deterred when the latter occurred. Not too much.

He woke up, got himself ready, and was off to work. No issue.

He still didn't have a TV, and it didn't look like he was getting one soon. He'd been used to the silence, though. He would hope his landlord would never find out about the crater behind where it used to be, but a trip to the store provided all he needed—an All Might poster covered it up now. A stroke of genius, he knew.

He also got a new notebook to accompany his regained interest in Quirk Theory. He didn't write in it with as much vigor as he had when he was in high school, but when he was in private, or at work with his agenda taken care of, he found himself creating entries on any quirk that caught his interest in the last few hours. He detailed potential versatility on the hero field, but didn't put much thought into the potential weaknesses they came with the way he used to.

He also visited his Mom that day. It was nice.

**Day 6 (Seven days to orientation)**

Izuku began to discreetly write in his notebook while he was on the clock. It wasn't anything major, just some tidbits he'd forgot to write down on a specific quirk beforehand.

Then he started keeping it on his desk next to his mousepad. It was nice to have on hand when he was bored, which increasingly became the second he clocked in to the second he was clocked out.

He'd always known his job wasn't anything that gave rise to enthusiasm, but it hit him differently compared to his first year there. If he had to speak on it—it hadn't been a problem or a detriment until then, and all Izuku could compare it to was a sedated animal waking up only to realize its binds. He was stuck—he just knew it then.

**Day 8 (Five days to orientation)**

He'd been slipping on his work lately. His boss confronted him about it. In his office, Izuku nodded when he needed to, apologized, and promised to reclaim his previous work ethic.

Then he took the next day off. He had the personal days, and he had the sick days. He'd probably just use them all until the orientation finally came around. It was selfish and irresponsible, and when Izuku laid in bed that morning he scolded himself for allowing himself to take up such behaviors. He still made the call.

That day he made his return to Dagobah Beach just to test himself as an alternative to wasting away at home. There was still a stink in the air that the ocean breeze couldn't wash away, but laws barring public quirk use were mere general guidelines in the face of the seclusion the beach offered.

He mostly lifted things he wouldn't have been able to lift a year ago, and threw kitchen appliances in the water while trying to estimate the distance; it was abandoned, and he'd come to learn trash already washed up on the shore, so no real harm was done. As for the estimates, everything he tossed damn near disappeared from immediate view, so he had to guess...really far?

Izuku wondered if there was a quirk gym he could go to test this out himself with professional equipment, and _maybe_ to work on his form. Despite his immense strength, he was still a little lanky. By sunset he'd worked up a sweat, so that had to be a little start.

**Day 11 (Two days to orientation)**

Another day, another day off. That, and a sleep-in. Izuku already had his agenda ready; he'd relax under his sheets for an hour, freshen himself up, and hit the beach. A funny thing to have on one's agenda in November under normal circumstances—thank God these weren't those.

He probably would've fallen back asleep, but Izuku realizing there were only forty-eight hours left until orientation made the very idea evaporate from his agenda. He felt a knot behind his rib build up at the knowledge.

Aiba said he took the first step when he attended the seminar, but two days from now he'd be taking the _actual_ first steps. He'd start his training and there'd only be moving forward. Through the anxiety, he grinned, stepping out of bed and paced back and forth because he had to start moving in _some_ way.

What was that, elation? Restlessness? Whatever it was, it felt good.

It dimmed a little by the time he got to the beach, but burnt just as bright once again when he laid eyes on the trash. He wondered if he should've cleaned it all up earlier, since he knew he could. But tgen he thought of how it'd likely draw other people to it, and he'd lose what he'd made his space.

He sighed, and knew he'd have to get to it eventually. Just not today.

That day he tried something different, and he made sure he had his new notebook on hand to scribe any new developments. Usually he just moved things around with his strength, but he wanted to check how further out of commission he could put one of these hunks of metal in.

Setting his things down, he walked over to a...boat. Or a yacht? Something people obviously set sail in.

Izuku wasn't so close to the designated beach entrance, but he wasn't necessarily close to the shore either. That however, was as much thought he put into it before he cocked his fist and got to work.

There was a new hole in side of the hull, and as he pulled his arm out, he felt out of place. He wasn't used to destroying things, but he noted it gave way with abysmal resistance, though Izuku had to take into account the material might not've been that strong in the first place. He'd have to try and look it up later.

Izuku took several paces to reach the front of the bow, only to shake his head in disappointment—he wouldn't be able to lift it from the front. The railing would give before it'd happen.

He settled for an old car. Not the same one that'd fallen on him, though he would've appreciated the irony.

Izuku squatted down to place his hand on the bottom of the vehicle, uncaring of the dirt, grime and God knows what else found his hand, and put his other one on the top end, making sure his grip was steady before lifting the car on its side. It was like what holding up his bookbag used to be like.

He slid to the hood, still hanging on but letting the bottom end hit the sand with a sharp ache. Finally he took a deep breath, tightened his grip and let the crash of metal and machinery resound through the landfill after he smashed the car on the sand.

He got the hang of it later.

**Orientation**

The general equivalency program he was sent to wasn't hosted at Todai. He didn't know why he didn't realize it when the show-up address was different from the school, but it didn't deter him. Not in the slightest.

He still woke up the earliest he could, too positively anxious to catch any more than five hours of sleep. He would've hoped exhaustion wouldn't take hold, but it was the furthest from his mind at the moment. He couldn't help but think of his life years ago when he'd let himself rot and felt he was changing for the better.

Musutafu University wasn't as spacious, but sizable nonetheless. The architecture was less traditional in design, and more modern in direct comparison to the last campus he went to. The gates were just as intimidating.

He was nervous, but hopeful. The days where he couldn't remain at home after waking up or hit the beach wore him down. It made the sight of the main campus building along with the prospect of what was to come feel like a release.

The walls inside weren't unlike Todai's, however. Plain white, business-like with diamond-patterned floors and labels above the doors lining the halls. It'd remind him of the building he worked at if the floors there weren't carpeted, and there wasn't natural lighting allowed to enter the space. The long and wide windows at the side of him revealed the sun's position graciously. Where he was then, he had a view of the train tracks that sent him here.

And the people walking around, engaging in conversation and occupying the space was another pleasant contrast. It was much more lively, however subtle.

Aside from that though, the logistics of the program he'd be attending finally interested him. He was sent to one university and others were sent to ones spread out across the country. He was fortunate his commute was convenient. Imagine if he was sent to Kamino!

Eventually, Izuku unconsciously tightened the grip on his backpack with a smile when he reached the door he was looking for. Right behind it hid the instructors that would be officially teaching him the ways of heroism.

It was poetic, in a way that pleasantly made his heart flutter. There Izuku was, about to open the door he'd been locked out of for as long as he could remember.

He slowly reached out, dead set on the handle, when—

_Thunk!_

His forehead was caught on the surface of the door. He was too busy stumbling back to wonder if it should have hurt. Then he realized he (momentarily) blocked someone's exit.

"Sorry!" Izuku apologized, and rationally knew this likely wouldn't cost him a good impression, but still worried a little.

Then the tall, imposing figure of a man bearing features akin to a killer whale came through the door, and Izuku's mind practically screamed _Gang Orca! Gang Orca!_

But that was it.

_'I can't place a full name!'_ he realized.

"It's fine, kid," He said, with a deep, curdling voice in a tone so _casual_ Izuku's mind was sent to reset—a Pro Hero was talking to him like it was nothing! He just wished he could've worked out an expression to make sure he wasn't being a nuisance, but his white eyes gave nothing away, especially not the red pupils or the rings circling them.

He took notice of his backpack, "I take it you're here for the General Equivalency Program?"

Izuku noticed he wasn't in the suit he usually wore during public appearances, apparently having opted for a black turtleneck and matching slacks, along with a gold chain—civilian clothes. He must've been roughly fifty years old by then, but there was nothing on him to suggest it. Did that come with having a mutant quirk?

Izuku smiled(tried to) in the face of his (imaginary) error, mostly because it put him at ease, "Yeah, actually. I'm really excited," He revealed, "A-are you—"

"Teaching? Yes," The man took two paces past Izuku, but not without clasping his entire shoulder, "Welcome aboard,"

Izuku took a minute to settle down.

But with him gone, he was back where he started. Unlike the last time, Izuku fearlessly opened the door. Whatever bravado he was building up however, vanished as soon as he walked in, and he couldn't help but shrink into himself as he laid his eyes on everything he possibly could.

The room was large, much larger than he expected. There were a couple tables that stretched from one end of the room to the other, each one in a row that was elevated higher than the one before it.

Like Gang Orca, the other Pros were out of costume too, all just lounging up front. It stuck out to him like a doe in the woods. Ironically though, _he_ must've looked like the deer caught between headlights.

When a man his age with vermillion hair as spiked as the back of a hedgehog Izuku immediately recognized as _Red Riot_ looked over, he knew he'd probably been standing there for too long. He speed-walked up the short staircase to the side and to a desk in the back with an "eep!"

It wasn't just him, though. There were already five people seated as well that he hadn't paid attention to. Thankfully, none were in the back.

With that, he pulled his phone out and got to scrolling, but found himself flashing his gaze to the actual heroes a few yards ahead of him.

He knew they were his age, but they were same people his five year old self would've raved over. To be in their presence was positively nerve racking. In a way that told him _'Yes, this is happening'_

He spied a man with short blonde locks and an easygoing smile talking to someone, but it was the distinct black set of strands in his hair shaped like a lightning bolt that made Izuku recognize him as _The_ Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt!

The woman he was talkimg to had a rounder face with eyes as large as Izuku's, and it was the auburn bob with two prominent strands framing her face that practically screamed at him _Uravity! The Gravity Girl!_

Before he could inspect the other three pros, he heard the door open and saw [Sakamoto?] walk in a second later, gold chain swaying with his strut a little. It occurred to Izuku then just how much taller Orca was than anyone in the room.

The other heroes subtly lining up and facing the room(facing _him_, facing _him_!) made him forgot all about it though.

"Alright, everyone! Welcome to the General Equivalency Program for Heroics. If you're here, it's 'cause the Hero Commission wants to make my life just a little harder," He introduced, folding his large hands behind his back.

"Let's begin,"

**Author's Note: Did some of you think I'd put him in UA? Anyway, I had to look up how to plot a seminar, and how to become an accountant in Japan for this. No regrets.**

**And I know Gang Orca's real name is Sakamata.**


End file.
